


Chain Reaction

by stuckunderwater



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Anti-Imprinting, F/M, Imprinting, because intense one sided relationships rarely lead to good things, rachel paves her own way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6587509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckunderwater/pseuds/stuckunderwater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imprinting means you live happily ever after. But when Rachel makes a different choice, it sets off a reaction in La Push. As she takes a new route, it will change the lives of all the human imprintees forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rachel

Life sucks sometimes. Once upon a time, it didn't. But that was before I entered the land of fairy tales. That was before I met Paul.  
  
Paul doesn't watch me very carefully anymore. He's sure I'm not going to freak out and leave. Foolish of him, not that I'm going to complain. Because, this time, I have a plan. A plan where I choose how my life will be lived.  
  
This time, no curse is going to win.

 

No one ever considers the thought that I might be different. That I might have the ability to think things through logically. But I went to college early, on a scholarship. I had a path to my life set out. I was going to be a somebody, an international lawyer. I can speak several languages already.  
  
Paul doesn't want me to go back to college. He can't go; he's too busy "protecting" the people of La Push. The one time I brought it up, he said no. Like it was his decision. "Honey," he said, "Isn't the fact that I love you unconditionally enough?"  
  
And I smiled, and said yes and didn't bring up the topic again. Why? Because I'm not stupid. I've met Emily. I know the dangers of saying no to a werewolf. Emily was lucky. And even the fact that he will spend the rest of his life beating himself up over it isn't enough to risk death.  
  
Leah keeps trying to talk to me. I'd like to talk to her, confide in her; I think she would understand. Unfortunately, she's a werewolf. I don't hold that against her (after all, she didn't choose it) but if I tell her anything, Paul will learn about it.  
  
And Paul can't learn about it. Not until it's too late.

 

I walk into the Claire's house and ask to speak to her parents. We've talked before; they know what's happening. They each get a small traveling bag, stuffed with clothes and necessities. They pick up a sleeping Claire and her bag and get into the back of my car.  
  
As we pass the border of La Push they duck down so they can't be seen. There's supposedly no one patrolling, but we can never be sure. I've made it a habit to drive every day, so no one suspects me.  
  
When we leave werewolf territory the others relax, but I don't. The Cullens would be only too happy to hand us back over if they find us in their territory; they wouldn't want to interfere with "true love."  
  
No one expects us until later this night but even though it's morning I still break the speed limit the whole way to the airport. As we buy our tickets I hesitate for a second. I could always stay; Claire would be safe. And I know that I could eventually love Paul, like Kim or Emily.  
  
Except, did Kim and Emily truly love their imprinters? Emily was so sad when Sam wasn't looking, and Kim kept giving me these glances, like she was begging me to help her.  
  
"You can't fight this kind of love," she told me, the day I learned Paul was a werewolf. I always wondered at the weary tone in her voice.  
  
I'm not turning back now. Paul may love me, but if that is love, I don't want it. I want to be someone, not be stuck at home catering to a werewolf in fear for the rest of my life. I want to know what it feels like to truly fall in love, not to have someone love you because of an ancestral curse.  
  
As I settle into my seat on the airplane that is taking me to the one place I can safely hide, the pilot's voice booms over the intercom. "Welcome to flight 2367. Destination: Volterra."


	2. Kim

I write "I feel tired" in the slot in the chart for today. As I pin it up by the calendar, the smily face sticker on Friday that sits next to the words "doctor appointment" seems to mock me. It suddenly feels so wrong to have a sticker there. I try to pry it off, but it resists. Eventually I give up. It's still staring at me.

I'm still sitting at the kitchen table when Jared comes in. Normally, he would be smiling, but today he just looks worried.

"Have you seen Rachel today?" he demands.

"No, why would I?" I ask.

"Paul can't find her anywhere. She left a note saying she was going for a walk. We traced her to Claire's, but she must have driven somewhere. We can't find her."

"Where's Claire?"

"Her parents left a note saying they were visiting an aunt."

I'm standing up now when the tiredness seems to overwhelm me again. I sit down, trying to remain upright. Jared notices and the crease in his forehead gets bigger.

"When are you seeing the doctor again?" he asks.

"I don't know. I just feel...so worn out."

The sticker is still staring. I give out a growl of frustration and try to pry it off. It won't budge.

"Kim, what are you doing?" I don't give him an answer. I start to bang the calendar with my hand in anger.

"Kim, are you okay?" 

"It's staring at me!" I yell at him. Then I start crying.

 

On Friday, I go and see the doctor again. He politely asks Jared to leave, and locks the door behind him.

"Kim, you seem to be under a lot of stress." I'm staring at the ground. Stress. If only. "Kim, this is not good for your mental health." I ignore him as I start to pick at my fingernails. "Does this have anything to do with Rachel?"

By this time, Rachel has been gone almost a week. Jared comes home reporting that Paul is going crazy. At some points he's despondent, staring at a wall for hours. At other times, he's furious, devoting his time to prowling the forests for Rachel.

I know what Rachel did. And sometimes I want to tell Jared, just to stop him from freaking out. But Rachel deserves my silence. She did what I never had the guts to do.

There. I admitted it. I could never do what she did though. Despite all the problems in my life, I truly do love Jared.

That's not enough though. He's never said it, I've never questioned it, but without the imprint he wouldn't love me. We both know it. Most days, the fact that he does love me is enough.

Most days. But some days, it whispers in my ear. I'm a nothing, the voices say, so pitiful, it took an ancient curse to get Jared to learn my name.

I love Jared and he loves me. But when we first met, his love, his obsession was already there. Me? I just had a high school crush. The Jared I built him up to be is not him.

"Please," I whisper. "Please don't tell Jared." The doctor...the shrink frowns. "Please. He'll...he'll smother me." 

I used to read fairy tales, dreaming of a prince to fall in love with me with one sight. Such irony that my life has become. I can't stand one more anxious query, one more overprotective order. Except I will. For Jared. Always for Jared.


	3. Emily

"Claire isn't coming back," Sam freezes, his hands quivering over the chopping board.

"Emily, don't say that. She's just visiting an aunt..."

"For six weeks?"

Sam sighs and sits down next to me on the couch. "What am I supposed to say?" he mutters, running his fingers through his hair. "The pack won't stand another..."

"Casualty? Where's Paul right now, Sam? Where is he?"

"Emily, don't say that. Paul's just taking a break."

I continue to provoke Sam, trying to get more of a reaction. I can't help it; it gives me a strange exhilaration to see him like this.

"Where's Rachel, Sam? Where's Claire?" The words sound pleading, like I'm worried for them. 

"Claire's visiting an aunt," he holds out his hands, like he's offering me a bargain. "Rachel is missing in a tragic accident."

"Another tragic accident, Sam? So sad, to happen after the last one. Did she and Paul go walking in the woods together, Sam?" As I say that, I know I've gone too far. Sam starts to vibrate, his face visibly straining. I back away, holding out my hands as if they could guard me. "Sam, don't do this to me. Not again. Sam, don't do this." At the sound of my voice, Sam controls himself. He's just a sad child sitting on the couch, face in hands.

"Emily..." he says, reaching out.

"Don't touch me," I hiss, running to the bedroom.

This scene is repeated every night.

 

Some days I feel like a heartless person, to torment Sam so. He is my soul mate; he even has the imprinting to show for it.

Some days, it's all I can do not to throw him out, to tell him to never darken my door again.

Some days, it's takes all I can to remind myself that this is wrong, that I can't love him.

I can't throw Sam away; unfortunately for me, I hold his life in my hands. He told me that day he would kill himself if I wouldn't be with him, the day I foolishly turned him down; the day I lost half my face. And as much as part of me will always hate him for that, I won't have the stain of his blood on my hands.

Why? Because sometimes I love him, and that cannot be washed away. Sometimes I hate him, and I lock the door and scream into the pillow with the wolf embroidered on it. Sometimes it's all I can do not to respond to the utter devotion that I get from him.

I try to find a happy medium.

 

Kim spends her days now wasting away in that little house she shares with Jared. She gave me a key so I could drop off groceries. I intend to use it for other purposes.

In the middle of the afternoon, I bring cookies over. The intent? Interrogation.

"You know where they are." Kim looks everywhere except at me. 

"Emily..."

"Don't lie to me."

She finally looks up, practically comatose from the effort.

"Rachel deserves my silence."

"So you do know." Kim looks around and nibbles on a cookie. "Do you?"

"No. But I've got a guess. Rachel mentioned something to me once..." I force her to look at me.

"Where?"

"Volterra."

I get up and grab my bag.

"Please don't tell them," she whispers. Then, as I don't answer, her voice rises. "Please!"

I don't answer; I just leave.

 

My name is Emily and in two months I'm going to marry Sam Uley. I'm going to change my last name and quit my job. I'm going to live out that pathetic little love story that everyone thinks we have.

And Sam will never forget or forgive himself for what he has done. He will live, but he will live in misery. I'll make sure of that. It's only fair exchange- an eye for an eye. And my right eye will never see again.


	4. Claire

Mamma doesn't like to talk about where we came from.

That's fine with me. As far as I can see, my home is in Volterra. Mamma and Papá live here, and so does my cousin Rachel. Rachel's old enough to be my aunt, but Mamma said I don't have any aunts or uncles. 

She went white the day I asked her if I had an uncle. She asked me why I thought I did.

"I'm not sure," I said. "But I think I remember, dimly, calling someone an uncle back when I was little."

Mamma said I didn't have any uncles, and that we left because of some bad men, but I wasn't to talk to anyone about that. Besides, Papá had always planned to move to Italy anyway.

I love Volterra. This is where I've grown up, where all my friends are. I don't ever want to leave- I'm going to go to college here. Mamma says that's a long way in the future, and that sixth grade is a little early to think of these things.

But sometimes, when there's nothing else to do, I sit and look at the little picture of the reservation that I was born on. I asked Rachel once, and she said that it was a small, dirty, poor town and that we left so I could have a future.

"A future?" I asked.

"Yes," said Rachel. "Your parents wanted you to grow up in the best possible place."

"That's Volterra!" I said, grinning. A sad smile came over Rachel's face.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, it is."

I like Rachel. She never patronizes me, like my Papá's co-workers. They think patronize is too big a vocabulary word for a sixth grader like me. Rachel says that I'm precocious, that I remind her of herself. Rachel's a lawyer, a good lawyer. She never takes up any cases that will get her known internationally though. She says that Italy is plenty big enough for her.

Someday I'm going to be a lawyer too. I'm going to get fancy business cards made, and where her cards say "Rachel Marino" mine are going to say "Claire Rossi." Mamma just laughed when I told her that, and said that I had plenty of time to change my mind.

Rachel brought her boyfriend over for dinner yesterday. Rachel is normally sensible, but I caught them kissing. They both burst out laughing at the expression of disgust on my face. I sulked about it for a while, but gave up after Rachel ignored my sulking.

 

Today, Mamma assigned me to make dinner on my own. I was so excited when I first learned about it, but now I'm wondering if I should have accepted her offer of help. I'm internally debating the uses of olives when the doorbell rings.

Mamma calls that she'll get it and she goes to the door. I add garlic to the pot on the left and then start to panic. Did I put it in the wrong one? I'm making Rachel's favorite meal; she's coming over tonight (without her boyfriend) and I want it to be perfect.

Mamma still hasn't said hello to the person at the door, which is strange. I wipe my hands and go over to the front entrance to see what's wrong. 

Mamma is standing in front of the door, her skin pale as a sheet. The lady standing outside sees me and smiles. As she turns her head, she reveals three long scars on the side of her face.

 

Mamma is sitting in the living room with the lady and I'm back to making dinner. I know I'm not supposed to make fast judgments (Papá is always telling me this) but I don't like this lady. Mamma sure seemed shocked to see her.

When Rachel arrives, I leap for the door before Mamma can get there and lock it. 

"Rachel," I whisper. "You won't guess what happened-"

"Emily," says Rachel, with a dangerous gleam in her eye. I turn around and see the strange lady standing in the hallway.

"Rachel," she says. "I haven't seen you for some time."

 

I've finished making dinner, but it's been left cold. I tried to join the conversation in the living room, but I was told to go do my homework. Once the door is closed, I sit outside it. I know it's wrong, but I need to know what's happening, why the grown-ups are acting so different.

"I've come alone," says Emily to the other two.

"Alone?" asks Rachel, not sounding very convinced. "Not even Sam?"

"Sam is dead." I hear a gasp, then silence. Finally, Mamma speaks.

"And Paul? Quil?"

"I never thought I would ever hear you eager for someone to be dead."

"Emily..."

"But you're not the same person anymore, are you? My sister. Except you're not."

"Emily...I missed you."

"Missed you too. Except you didn't."


End file.
